Her Scandal
by Inzannatea23
Summary: Ladies who lunch discuss Miss Fisher and her scandalous antipodean suitor.


This is a prequel to my story "The Most Common Element" wherein Dame Salome says to Jack, "You must be 'Her Scandal" it also takes place just at the beginning of "Things Said". You don't need to have read either of those stories, but Jack has gone after Phryne, and then Phryne went after Jack in Egypt in "Thing Said". In "The Most Common Element" they make their way back and meet one of the women at the table below.

Phryne and Jack are not in directly in this story, but it's mostly about them. Tongues wag cruelly.

* * *

"I thought your daughter was joining us for luncheon, Margaret?" Lady Redesdale sniffed at her watercress salad, "I rather looked forward to speaking with her. I think she might be a good match for my Tom."

Margaret Fisher's fingernails dug into her palms. She should have known better than to dream the subject of her daughter could remain off the table. She smiled tightly at the Lady Redesdale.

Before she could speak, a gruff voice that was only identifiable as female by long experience cut in, "I was looking forward to hearing about her flight! That was something. That took balls."

The other women at the table turned horrified to the tiny woman with white bobbed hair, thick glasses, and brilliant red lipstick. This little white-haired creature seemed like a caricature. A sparkling red headband capped her snowy hair, and a bright purple marabou created a tight collar. The dress under the purple marabou collar hinted at lemon. She was the oldest at the table by quite a few years. She was the richest as well, though not the one with the fanciest title.

"I think she's too old for Tom," the one person who wasn't horrified by the little lady with the white hair, the too-red lips, and alarming fashion sense, was a stunning blonde, much younger than the rest of the crowd. "And I've already published the 'flying from the antipodes' story, Dame Salome. I need fresh dirt. So, where is Phryne, anyway? We were supposed to be having dinner next week and she begged off!"

Margaret turned to the blonde, "I'm sorry to hear that Mrs. Graham. I'm sure she meant no disrespect or… it's just she. She's… well, she's flown off again. To Egypt, she said. She should be back in a few weeks."

"Egypt? What on earth is she doing in Egypt?" Lady Redesdale looked down her nose at Margaret. For not the first time in the last fifteen years, Margaret silently questioned why she felt the need to be a part of this society. She'd never needed them before. When she was young and in love— carefree. Before the war turned her world upside down. Before Janey left her heartbroken. Now she just kept trying to fill the emptiness with more and more… things. Baubles. Trinkets. Things that don't matter. It never seemed to fill the void.

"She said she was going to meet a friend," Margaret tried to keep it simple.

"Meet a friend? She blew off dinner with Sheilah Graham to meet a friend? What kind of friend?" Margaret dug more deeply into her palms. This had been the wrong thing to say.

"A very good friend, I'd imagine," Dame Salome supplied helpfully.

Margaret nodded, "Yes, I believe so. Henry said he's a very respectable man."

Lady Redesdale drew up archly, "I did not realize Miss Fisher was betrothed. I would never have suggested my Tom had I known. You really should announce these things, Margaret. It's very bad form to keep society out of the loop."

"No… no… It's not like that. Or maybe… I don't know what it is. I don't think they were involved in Australia, but he's come after her…" Margaret didn't know why she kept talking about this. For all of their many, many faults, these women were… she supposed… her friends. It was bothering her that Phryne wasn't herself. She'd been home for over half a year and she was a different woman these days. Wistful.

"You don't come halfway around the world for someone if you're not involved with them. Is he rich?" Sheilah demanded, "He must be to be able to afford such a grand gesture."

"Phryne won't talk about him, but Henry says he isn't. He's a police officer," Margaret was trying to get out of this conversation, but she couldn't find the exit, "Phryne's been… detecting."

"Detecting?" Lady Redesdale sneered, "Detecting what?"

"Oh, you haven't heard this Lady Redesdale?" Sheilah giggled, "Miss Fisher thinks she's a regular lady Sherlock Holmes. She solves mysteries. It's really quite droll. Say… this isn't the divorced policeman she's been linked to in the Australian papers is it? Oh, how delicious!"

"Oh my, no, Mrs. Graham… I don't know anything about all that, I don't know who this man is other than Henry calls him 'Jack'. Please… there's nothing to report on," Margaret realized that this was getting out of control.

"A policeman! And _DIVORCED!_ How unfortunate, Margaret. Tsk," Lady Redesdale clucked her tongue at the news. "Well, at least the divorce happened in the antipodes and he's a nobody… shouldn't be as much of a problem."

"Are you kidding, Lady R? This is fantastic! There's nothing like a juicy scandal to sell newspapers. Phryne marrying? And a _divorced_ commoner at that? It's delicious." Sheilah was positively vibrating with excitement. She jumped up from her chair, "Ladies, it's been an absolute delight! Margaret… congratulations!"

Margaret Fisher stared after the columnist in horror. What had she done?

"Don't worry, Margaret," Dame Salome patted her hand, "As dear Oscar used to say, 'the only thing worse than being talked about is _not_ being talked about."


End file.
